Mercyside

A shrill scream wailed from behind a closed, intricately carved wooden door. The noise echoed through the halls, haunting its way into every corridor. The sound was an unsettling one; it was more of an animalistic screech than anything. On the other side of this door waited a great and wise man, an elf, Lord Elrond, master of Rivendell. He stood in silence, patiently waiting to be admitted, to see the child that had just been born to his dear friend, Amaeria. She had asked this of him, and so he would oblige willingly, but the cry of the newborn child had disturbed even him. It reminded him of a sound that put fear into the heart of even the strongest willed men, no matter their race; the dreaded, hissing caw of the Nazgûl.

Upon this thought, the door wrenched open and the maiden on the other side came stumbling out, nearly crashing into him. The look on her face was by far even more horrifying than the sound of the wailing child. The woman was obviously distraught and she clutched onto the Elven lord, fearful, apparently, of what she had just witnessed.

“M-my Lord,” the woman stuttered out.

“Yes, what is it,” Lord Elrond replied, worry clearly plaguing his features.

“That… that child is not natural!” she cried out hysterically. “Her eyes are black as night!” Now that really was disturbing news. Surely she was wrong?

Lord Elrond didn’t have the chance to ask before the woman let out a terror-stricken yell before running off, unable to withstand staying near any longer. Elrond turned to the room, entering silently. When he did, he saw his friend laying there, her skin pale white, and her ice blue eyes wide, as though she had just seen death. Amaeria looked to the Elvish Lord and he expected a small smile from her as always, but did not receive one. Instead, she turned sharply to see the other maid across the room. Elrond followed her gaze and instead of seeing the maid holding Amaeria’s child, she merely stared at the newborn girl in shock and terror. Elrond noticed only now as he looked at the girl that silence had fallen. The child sat there, no longer crying, but gazing around curiously with glassy jet black eyes.

“Where, where is my daughter?” Amaeria spoke, unable to see the little girl from where she lay. Elrond turned to her, managing a small smile to hide the fact that he was unnerved by what he’d seen, for in all his years, he’d never seen anything quite like… that child. Darkness radiated from her, and it was not due to her eyes. The essence of the child seemed to be that of pure evil, but the Elvish Lord knew it could not be so; she was innocent in the purest meaning of the word. Elrond could see as he looked at his friend that her labor had made her weak, and her strength was only draining.

“Amaeria, your child is well, but you are not. Do not strain yourself.” This only made the woman more frantic, and she began to sit up, only to fall back against the bed, breathing in slowly through gritted teeth as she tried to block out the overwhelming pain she felt.

”Lord Elrond,” she spoke, her voice quiet, barely above a whisper. “Her name…” Amaeria trailed off as another wave of pain struck her, one that was far worse than anything she’d felt before.

“Her name… is A’mael.”

Beloved, Elrond thought to himself. Such a strange name for a child with such a presence as this one already had. It smothered the room; Elrond had no clue how the newborn’s mother couldn’t feel it as well. Perhaps it doesn’t matter.

As that thought crossed his mind, Amaeria reached out for him, only for her hand to fall back to her side as she drew her last, weak breath. The Elvish Lord turned sharply in the direction of the child not even a second later, hearing a quiet sound, one that almost sounded like a laugh. The child laid there with a smile on her face, seeing a bird in the window. This was not what was startling; what was startling was now, the little girl's eyes were no longer obsidian black, but ice blue.... Just like her mother's.